Defy Gravity
by HX9
Summary: An interlude for Threads.


**Tagline:**  
Some rules were meant to be broken.

**Notes:**  
Set after Season 8, post "Moebius Part 2", but before Season 9  
Spoilers for _Stargate_, "The First Commandment" (1.05), "Cold Lazarus" (1.07), "The Nox" (1.08), "Hathor" (1.14), "Tin Man" (1.19), "Secrets" (2.09), "Into the Fire, Part 2" (3.01), "Point of View" (3.06), "The Devil you Know, Part 2" (3.13), "Upgrades" (4.03), "Divide and Conquer" (4.05), "Window of Opportunity (4.06), "2001" (4.16), "Double Jeopardy" (4.21), "Desperate Measures" (5.11), Abyss (6.06), "Grace" (7.13), "Death Knell" (7.16), "Heroes, Part 2" (7.18), "New Order, Part 1" (8.01), New Order, Part 2" (8.02), "Reckoning Part 2" (8.17), and "Threads" (8.18)  
Not Beta'd

**Disclaimer:**  
No credit was assumed for any of the characters, whether major or minor, from the _Stargate: SG-1_ television series.  
The following story is fictional and does not represent any actual person or event.

**Author's Message:**  
This is a possible beginning to the Sam/Jack relationship and may also explain how he got her to go to the cabin after eight years of trying.  
Plus, if you can find the allusion to "Window of Opportunity" (4.06), you get free kudos.  
Happy Readings

* * *

Storm clouds hung heavily in the atmosphere, low and lurking, reflecting the lights from the streetlamps back to the sidewalks and asphalt on the usually calm Grey Street. The thin lane inside the small neighborhood, one that had grown over many years of newcomers and old timers moving to make their home in quiet, was almost an entirely secluded place. They all were trying to create their own version of heaven here. Most of the houses were dark simply because it was past midnight on a Thursday. People had to get up the next day for work or school or for the second round of bridge to be played on someone's front porch. Cars were in their garages or under their respect car ports so they could rest.

On this particular night, a dark green truck was parked on the curb outside a small one-story house, a house that had one lamp humming in the den and concealed behind Venetian blinds. There were two people, one hidden inside the cool walls of the edifice and another sitting on the roughened upholstery of the Ford F250, both being pulled to a dangerous silhouette of gravity and towards each other. Fighting it tired them, ignoring it threatened them, but accepting it pained them. It was an eternal internal conflict with neither one willing to surrender or to win. There had been ultimatums and there had been truces and ceasefires, but no matter how hard they tried to subdue the battle would flare up and rage out again. But now, with the thunder rumbling in the far distance and lightning flashing inside the black and purple clouds, one of them was willing to finally end it all.

The only problem was getting the nerve to climb out of his truck, march up to the front porch, and knock on the door without turning on his heels and sprinting back to his truck, making a mad dive for the bed with spray-on bed lining.

That small problem was the reason why Brigadier General Jack O'Neill had been sitting in his quiet truck for the past thirty minutes outside his second-in-command's, Lieutenant Colonel Samantha Carter's, house.

His eyes were glazed over and staring blindly at the radio, where the clock would normally be illuminated, his hands on the steering wheel. He was exhausted, to be fairly honest, particularly after the past few days.

Doctor Daniel Jackson's dance with death with Oma Desala as his partner, Anubis preparing to destroy the planet yet again, Jack's fallout with Kerry Johnson of the CIA, Sam's broken engagement with beau Detective Pete Shanahan, it all rubbed against the grain. But the straw that had broken the camel's back was the death of retired Major General Jacob Carter and the Tok'ra he hosted, Selmak.

Jacob had been laid to rest beside his beloved wife, Margaret, in the wonderfully plain countryside in Iowa just yesterday. An old friend of the late general and a dear friend to the two Stargate personnel, Lieutenant General George Hammond, retired, had pulled out his old dusty bugle to play a beautiful round of Taps as the coffin was lowered. It was a magnificent service, small, with only close family and a few select friends. Sam had asked Jack to come along, and he had. Dressed in their service dress blues, he had remained at her side throughout the service, sitting beside her or standing just behind her. He even got to finally meet the elusive Mark Carter and his family; the wife, Nicole, and the children, Gary and Hazel.

She had said nothing as the funeral progressed, she only nodded at the sergeant who handed her the folded flag from the casket, and she stared blankly out of the window of the plane during the ride back to Colorado Springs. He had said nothing before, during, or after the events unfolded out of respect for her grief, and because it was the only way he had been able to show his support.

It was a silent presence with no words, but it was how they always had been. For four years they had kept it quiet, swept under the rug. The only people who had ever heard them verbally express their complicated connection were Freya and Anise the Tok'ra, Teal'c, and the late Major Doctor Janet Frasier, and that was only because they had to admit it. If they never had to say it, they never would have. But it had to be said, and the words had been spoken. It was much too late to try and take them back, especially since they still rang true. They only opposed what they felt in order to share gazes while they sat in briefings and debriefings, to feel each other's warmth as they walked side by side in the corridors, to accidentally brush the other's hand during their many meals in the commissary. It was a secret, this desire that swelled inside them and that threatened to consume them.

All of that changed after she was returned to Earth from her interesting trip aboard_Prometheus_, after she had been stranded in a decaying ship for four days with a concussion and hallucinations. She had come home and abandoned him for someone else, for someone who could touch her and kiss her and take her to the pinnacles of euphoria in the night amongst the thin sheets of her bed and not be afraid of losing everything else in the process. She left him for a man who could accomplish what he could not because of a little paragraph in the regulations.

He had tried to be happy for her. He tried to let her know that as long as she was happy he would be happy for her. But every laugh that he heard from her, every smile he saw that decorated her lips, tormented him because deep down he knew that they were gifts from another man.

Jack wanted to change it. He was tired of resisting the pull that drew him to Sam. He had been told that the rules were nothing more than excuses, and not by anyone who had any real knowledge on the situation. His father, Kenneth O'Neill, had told him that when he was young, long before he had met Sam or had any real interest in anything but cars. The words echoed in his head as he stared off into the haze before the storm:

"_Lad, there's no such thing as rules. You've got to fight for what you want, even if the rules say not to. Sometimes, Jacky, you just got to screw everything and just go for it. Trust me, you'll regret it if you never try."_

On that note, after he had dropped Sam off and gone home to relax, he had the sudden urge to throw the United States Air Force manual into his burning grill. He managed to suppress that and instead grabbed his keys and hopped into his truck with the full intent of marching to her door, knocking, and twirling her in his arms after she opened up.

Yet he had not gathered the courage, even after thirty minutes of sitting, contemplating, turning the key and starting the engine, refocusing, turning it back off, and sitting again. It was a caustic cycle. Who was he, the Cowardly Lion? He normally considered himself more of the Scarecrow when he was face with that particular analogy.

He watched her window as it grew dark, and knew his time was running short. "Ah…what the hell," he decided.

He yanked his keys from the ignition and shoved them deep into the pockets of his khakis. That was stage one. He brushed off his dark grey shirt and shifted his booted feet near the pedals. Stage two was opening the door, with stage three being exiting his vehicle. He took a deep breath and did both steps in a quick, almost erratic motion, and completed stage four when he slammed his truck door shut. The thunder pressed against his skin as his strides brought him across her lawn and up the steps of her porch to stop just before her doormat. Thick, humid air begging for the rain swarmed him, but it was her who filled him with all that was intangible, all that made him feel. And he wanted her to know that.

Jack refused to bite his lower lip as he raised his fist and knock lightly five times, his arm jerked back to his side within the first second of silence. He waited, hoping that she would come, but there was no sound from the other side. He knew she had heard him, he knew that she was in the den because he had previously seen her shadow walk across the blinds in the lamplight from inside. So he knocked again, four times, and waited again. There was no reaction.

"Carter," he beckoned, forcing his body to lean closer to the door. His ears tuned in to hear her movements inside.

"Carter, it's me." The silence returned.

"C'mon, I know you're in there." There, for a moment, he heard it. It was a stifled sob, a sniff in a tissue.

"I'm coming in, okay?" He checked the doorknob and found it to be unlocked, and he pushed the door open, letting himself in.

He took two steps inside, closing the door behind him as a spark of electricity flashed in the dark night sky, and turned to the right to face the den. The room was under the glow of the streetlamp, most of its glare being blocked by the blinds. The back of the couch was facing him, a recliner perched near the far left corner, and the television was at an angle near the window. Over the top of the couch he could see tussled blonde hair, and he approached the room.

Jack rounded the couch to find Sam curled up against the far arm, and he came to a stop to look at her. She was dress in the simplest of clothes, a dark blue t-shirt and black lounge pants with white socks over her feet. A bottle of red wine was open on the coffee table, and a single wine glass was full and seated on a costar. The bottle was new, a Swiss army knife decorated with a fresh cork, and the only amount of wine that was missing from its contents were inside the bowl of the crystal glass. A box of Kleenex was on the floor between the couch and coffee table, but there were no piles of used tissues, only one that was crushed in her fist as she stared off into space. Her blue eyes were full of tears that she dabbed away before they fell.

"Go away, sir" she whispered tearfully. Her eyes did not meet him as she spoke.

Jack pushed his hands into his pockets, not finding his keys on purpose. If he had, he might have made a run for it. "I prefer whiskey when I'm wallowing in self-pity."

"Please, just go," she reiterated through her teeth, turning her head away from him.

"You don't need—" he began.

"No, stop," interrupted Sam. Her head moved to face him and his casual stance. "You leave me alone."

The cold look she shot him burrowed itself into his eyes, and it clearly stated that she wanted to be left alone to bury her soul alongside her dead father. He looked at her, watching her eyes as she looked away and leaned her head back against the couch. He knew the feeling, the grief and the false sense that somehow everything that happened was his fault. It had assaulted him once before, a long time ago, when a boy named Charlie O'Neill died. The nightmares, the phantasms his mind played on him; the nights with either Jack Daniels or his father's favorite brand of Scotch on the coffee table before his chair, holding his Beretta and the small bullet with the hollow point that he had made in hand. The flashes of memory were extremely vivid and yet so far away, now that he had rediscovered life again.

He nodded to himself, stepping back and making his way to the kitchen for a wine glass, finding one in the cabinet that was beside her refrigerator. After rinsing it in the sink in case of dust, he returned to the den and sat on the opposite end of the couch, filling his glass with wine.

"Best not to drink alone, it's not as much fun," said Jack, raising his glass to her and taking a short sip. His eyes darted back to her again and saw her watching him from the corner of her eye, and she quickly turned her gaze elsewhere. He had come in here for a reason, to end the discord between them, but he had nowhere to start. Perhaps it was best to begin in familiar territory.

He licked his lips, leaned back into the cushions, and cradled the glass in his palm and between his fingers. He swirled the alcohol in the glass, watching it spiral. "I almost ate a bullet once," he initiated.

That got Sam's attention; he could feel it whilst the atmosphere around him shuddered. "What?" she asked incredulously. She sat up and looked over to him, but he did not establish eye contact.

"It was after Charlie. Sara and I were falling apart long before Charlie died, but he was the only thing keeping us together. Once he was gone there was nothing left. I packed up my things, took my truck, and left. I ended up at the cabin with a case load of a friend named Jack and crates of my old man's Scotch. Who needs food when you've got alcohol, eh?"

He paused, sipping his wine, and continued. "It didn't really hit me until I saw a picture Charlie drew of us playing ball. Seeing that pushed me over the edge. I got my gun from my truck and walked out to the dock and just stood there. It was raining, pouring, actually. I stood there and could bring myself to pull the gun to my head and pull the damn trigger. I figured I wasn't drunk enough, that and I'd be doing it all wrong."

Thunder grumbled in the distance again, providing an almost perfect break. "So, the next time I was up to it, I made myself a hollow tipped bullet. Every night I'd go to put it in the gun, and every night I couldn't off myself. I did it until I first went through the Stargate back when it was me, Daniel, Kawalsky, and Ferretti. When we got back, I thought I was better. I put it away in a cabinet where I'd keep the whiskey. I didn't pull it back out until we had that incident with the blue crystal thing that copied me and all that crap. Then it was back to almost every night. I finally managed to throw the damn thing away about five, six years ago."

By this time, Sam was looking at her commanding officer with a gaped mouth, her upper body turned towards him, and she pressed with her curiosity by inquiring, "Why?"

"Because I found a reason to not eat that bullet," he replied. "I, I remember waking up after some horrific nightmare to find that it wasn't a nightmare. I almost lost someone who I cared about without ever letting them know that I cared."

He remembered it well. He had just awoken from a cryogenic freeze to see Hathor about to kill Sam with a ribbon device, and a part of him demanded it to stop. So he had done something about it by pushing himself up and confronting the Goa'uld, tossing her over the ledge. Looking back on the recollection, seeing Sam, the woman who had mended his heart with a magic she did not realize she processed, lying still on the floor was enough to send him over the edge. But she was not dead, she had not slipped away. She was still here, looking at him now from across the couch with her knees tucked under her chin.

Deciding that now was a time as good as any, Jack pressed forward. He turned his eyes up to her, locking his deep bronze with her blue sapphires.

"I still care…" he broke eye contact momentarily to set his glass on the coffee table, but he reestablished it quickly "…about you."

Sam's body stiffened with an intake of a breath, but what came from her mouth was not what he had expected, although he really was unsure of what to expect.

"Get out," she ordered with strain.

"No. I'm not leaving." Jack was not backing down this time. For too long he had kept his distance, giving her room to be flexible. That space had pushed her away into the arms of another man, and he almost lost her forever to this complete stranger. He was not going to lose her again, in any sense.

"Get out." Sam stood from the couch and walked across the room to the gloomy, foreboding corner near the recliner, folding her arms over her breasts and cupping her hands around the opposite elbows. Her back was to him, her eyes staring at some unseen item in the dark trying to be strong, but her shadow outlined on the carpet was crying.

Jack pushed up from the couch and took a step in her direction but did not advance. He had a point to make, and he was going to make it.

"I'm tired, Carter. I'm tired of this. I'm tired of being a good little colonel or general and playing by the rules. I'm tired of waiting and wanting and always coming up short. I can't do this anymore. I can't be this far away anymore. This has to stop."

A pause settled before Sam spoke, her voice shaking. "I can't do that, sir—"

"Do what?" demanded Jack, stepping towards her. "Don't tell me this isn't eating away at you. You'd be lying if you said that." He watched her shake her head, but she did not respond.

"You once said that you cared for me more than what's allowed," he pushed. "Is that still true, or am I too late?"

A heavy pause fell in the air between the two bodies in the dark. Jack watched Sam's head turn to the right, the dim light from the street falling across her features shallowly, but he was unprepared for the reaction she gave him.

"No—"

Jack's mouth fell, a part of him beginning to feel the weight of despair crushing him down again. He threw his hands up in the air in defeat while fighting back the urge to lash out. Obviously what he thought was no longer. Inside he was beginning to bash his head against the wall repeatedly, muttering how stupid his idea of bliss had been. His arms fell to his sides, his palms slapping his thighs as he sighed and turned.

"I didn't say that," continued Sam, correcting him. Jack stopped and looked back to her, watching her as she turned back to face him. Her composure was failing, the strong soldier façade surrendering to the woman that lay underneath.

With a quivering breath, she asked, "Don't you remember?"

Jack's mind went backwards so fast he felt like he had been caught in a tail spin inside a F16. He was back inside in that small observation room, standing behind Freya and Anise the Tok'ra with his arms folded across his chest and his eyes flickering from the blue of Sam's to the little za'tarc machine that would measure her recall.

"_The Jaffa were coming, you could hear them. Colonel O'Neill refused to leave you, despite your wishes," prompted Anise._

"_Yes," stated Sam blankly. She was seated, strapped before the device that could destroy her life, with Jack standing just within her line of sight._

"_Why did you want Colonel O'Neill to leave you behind?" asked Anise. Jack listened to Sam sigh and blink slowly before she answered._

"_I didn't want to see him die or him to see me die…" the machine began to turn pink and swirl, making Jack glance up to her nervously, and Sam corrected her response._

"_I didn't want him to die because of me."_

_There was a pause as Anise and Jack judged the machine, noting that the disc had returned to blue on the screen. _So far, so good_, thought Jack. But he could still feel the unease that Sam was sending him._

"_Why is that?" inquired Anise._

"_I…I care for him in a way that I shouldn't."_

_Jack's eyes moved and caught Sam's for just a brief moment as she responded. Her voice was strong and confident, and Jack looked to see what the machine said. A frown fell on his lips when the screen churned red, and the uncomfortable warmth in the stuffy room burned his lungs. He gulped to ease the sear and tightened his hold on himself with his forearms, and he raised his eyes to gauge her reaction. She was shifting in her restraints ever so slightly, an anticipation begging from the way she looked from him to Anise._

_The Tok'ra approached again, querying, "And how is that?"_

"_Pardon?" reiterated Sam uncertainly._

"_How do you care for the Colonel?" Anise leaned back in her chair, completely indifferent to the impact this entire episode would have in later years._

_Sam stuttered, "I…I—"_

"_Carter," encouraged Jack, staring at her eyes. She could not see him, her gaze fixed on the machine, but he knew she needed to know he was there._

_She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and answered in almost an inaudible whisper. "I love him."_

_Anise studied the screen as it turned steady blue, and reported, "You are also not a za'tarc."_

Jack had walked over to her and removed the restraints from Sam. She had told him that what they had just admitted could stay in that room, and enforced that what they had said would have no effect on their work. He asked her again and she had repeated herself. But it had changed everything because it was coming back to haunt them now, four years later. They were trapped within a rift that was pushing and pulling at them, trying to mesh them together and rip them apart simultaneously.

"Yeah, I remember," replied Jack. He made no move towards her, he himself unsure as to what he was supposed to do next. Special Operations training could not prepare him for the mystical hold Sam had on him.

"Good," spoke Sam, trying to remain stable. She sniffed and rubbed the corner of her right eye with the tips of her fingers. "Now you can go."

Jack's mouth gaped, he lacking the logic and understanding. He could go now? First she wanted him gone, next she let him talk and let him think he was invited, and now she was pushing him away again? She was ordering him, her commanding officer, to leave after all of this? Were all women like this nowadays? What ever happened to straight answers from people?

"I already told you I'm not leaving," he said with slight bitterness.

Sam's eyes turned icy as she hid her broken demeanor and replaced it with frightened anger. "This is _my_ house, and you're _not_ wanted here,_sir_! You _are_ leaving."

Jack was bordering on anger at her. There was something else that she was not telling him, some dark secret that she feared so much that it had this much control over her distraught form. He wanted to know what it was, and he knew that there was no way that he was going to let her to remain quiet about it or keep it bottle up. She was going to tell him that instant, regardless of how much she pleaded with him.

He shuffled forward in the darkness, his feet dragging on the carpet loudly. "Carter, something's up with you," he noted carefully. He continued to move towards her, taking great care to observe her and gauge her properly.

Tears spilled from her eyes as she buried her head in her hands, sobs of strained emotion suddenly shaking her entire body. He reached out to take her in his arms, but when his fingertips brushed against her arm she jerked away, stumbling backwards into the darkness with a small shriek, as if some realization of hers was a predominant threat over her being.

"Please, leave!" she yelled, pulling herself away from him. "Just go!"

He tried to reach out again but she moved swiftly around him, the two of them trading places as she tried to evade him. She had her body turned so her back was to the den for an easy escape. But he was not ready to let this all go with her running away. He used to run from his problems, from the confrontations, and now when he chose to stand up it was her running.

He quickly stretched out and grabbed her by her upper arms, holding her still, and she began to fight him. She struggled in his grasp, cursing and twisting and slapping her palms against his chest as he demanded to understand.

"Carter!"

"_Let me go!_" she ordered forcefully. She wrenched her body out of his hands and turned to run.

His hand shot out and closed around her forearm, and with a powerful yank and a swift turn he pulled her back to him, her back to his chest as she struggled. He released her to take a better hold of her arms but she leapt to make another sprint, and instead he had to wrap his arms around her waist to keep her close.

"Carter…" he stipulated softly. She only squirmed more, shaking her head and pinching her lips closed. No violent counterattack was initiated, but the fact that she was resisting him did startle him.

"What's the matter with you?" His body tensed as he threw the muscles in his shoulders and arms to spin her around while remaining in his grasp.

"No!" she begged. "Don't, please…just leave…" She pulled back from him, her movement restricted, and a tear escaped and raced down the length of her face, leaving a shadowy trail in its wake. "Let me go…"

She was crying for the first time because of him, ripping his soul, yet he still focused on her eyes to read her with her guard down. He could see the pain, confusion, frustration, and loneliness that filled them with her tears. Everything that had ever happened to her, from her childhood to what was happening now, was threatening to kill her inside. She felt empty and lost, which brought along depression and grief.

Jack understood.

He released his overbearing hold only to swallow her in his embrace, pressing her against him and rocking her in his arms. She stopped resisting him and shattered, relaxing into him and crying into his chest while holding on to him tightly, her words turning to mumbles against his shirt.

"It's okay," he shushed, placing his palm on the back of her golden head and leading the two of them to the couch to sit. He lowered them to the cushions, her body turning off to his left but remaining attached for dear life, her head staying buried in his shoulder.

"It's okay," he echoed. The storm outside was rumbling but not coming down just yet, as if it was waiting for something.

"Is it?" she asked watery, the thunder gurgling again. It was almost not a question, and yet it was more of a cue. It was her turn to talk, and he sat still to listen. She lifted her head and wiped her eyes as dry as she could, but focused her eyes on to coffee table.

"Do you know what it's like to feel like you're cursed? That no matter how far in life you go, you'll never be able to be happy? I feel like that, like I'm some kind of living proof of Murphy's Law: anything bad that can happen will happen. My mother died when I was thirteen, when I needed her the most. I learned Dad had terminal cancer when we were in Washington getting the Air Medal for saving the world from Apophis the first time. He died when I was supposed to be getting married. Every time I should've felt happy it all comes crashing down on top of me. So I compensated for all of it by pushing everyone else away."

She paused, gathering up her strength to keep on. "I figured that as long as I kept everyone at a distance then they would be safe. _I_ would be safe. It worked for a while. Losing people didn't hurt as much because they were so far away. But, but then _you_ came along and completely ruined everything. Somehow you let me think it was okay to lower my guard down and start letting people get close to me. It felt good to let people in again. But then, then I messed up. I let myself become attracted to you because I mistook rank to mean that it was safe to do so. You were my CO, I couldn't have you but as long as you were in my sights then no one else could hurt me. Then the whole za'tarc thing happened, and I realized that what I had done, that I'd screwed up."

A tear started down her cheek but she brushed it away briskly, and with a small sob continued. "I saw you as some sort of superhero who I could fall for, and every time I really believed it I would almost lose you. You were shot, or tortured by a Goa'uld, or almost killed by some brainwashed foot-soldier because of me. I kept on thinking that I was safe because of our ranks, but as long as I kept that up you were in danger. So, after, after _Prometheus_ I decided to leave you behind and move on, but Dad…I think he always knew about _us_. He would drop these little hints to me about how I was _content_ and not _happy_ because I was _settling_ and not _fighting_for what I wanted. Even when he was dying he was lecturing me about it…about how I shouldn't let rules get in my way…but…"

Sam could not continue, for the sobs broke in her throat and made her choke on her tears. Jack pulled her closer as she cried. Maybe tonight was not the time to spill his internal feelings and push that to the back of his mind and center on Sam's need of comfort.

"…But, but I, I can't…" sobbed Sam in his shirt, trying to press on.

"Hey, hey, it's okay…" he cut.

"No, it isn't," she countered. She pulled out of his embrace and stood up from the couch, walking around the coffee table to stand before the blinded window that led out to the street. She hugged herself around her waist and took a few breaths to keep her tears at bay.

"I can't have what…_who_ I want, no matter how hard I wish." She stopped, lowering her arms so her hands could pull up the blinds. "Because I know that if I get it…_you_ then you'll die like the rest of them. It's not fair."

Jack sat still and reflected on her words in silence, tracing his chin with his thumb. Her tears were not due to the stress of her father's death, or the loss of a fiancé, or the close call of a compassionate archaeologist. She was worried, perplexed over the sudden rush of emotions that he had accidentally triggered. And it was not that she did not care for him like he originally presumed, but she cared for him too much. She was afraid that she would lose him to the powerful grip of the Grim Reaper that seemed to hover in her shadow. She pushed him away to protect him because it was the only way she really knew how to show him that what they had four years ago was still there. And all of those little glances and touches they shared were her way of reassuring herself that it was all worth it.

He would do anything for her and that he had already proven the fact numerous times. He had gone, literally, to Hell and back to rescue her father. He would not leave her behind when execution was eminent on another side of the force shield. He had paired up with a man he despised to find her when she was kidnapped. He tracked her through the woods when a Kull Warrior was on the move to kill her. He went on every single rescue recon to discover where she had gone when _Prometheus_ disappeared in the middle of random space. He would have shot Martouf so she would not have to deal with Jolinar's grief. He would have taken her place when Fifth tortured her if he could have.

He would die for her if it meant her living. With that thought, others entered his head, not all very pleasant, and a realization hit him.

Standing up, he moved in the dark to stand just behind her, where she could see him out of the corner of her eye, and said, "I've already died. Don't you remember?"

Sam's eyes darted to him but her head remained still, a look of confusion written across it. Jack took a step forward and was now standing on Sam's right. Staring though the glass of the window he raised his eyes over his truck and up to the dark, cloudy sky.

"I've died quite a few times, come to think of it. The whole Nox thing, then there was those two alternate realities where my other self died or was already dead, then my robot self died, and there's my wonderful time spent shooting the breeze with Ba'al…the point is that I'm still alive." He turned to face her. "And knowing how irony works, I'll be here for a long time. You don't have to be afraid of losing me. I'll always be here. I've been, still am, and will_always_ be here, there, everywhere, for _you_."

He watched her as she slowly began to compute what he had just said. Her features softened, her despair being replaced with a sense of joy as a small smile crept to the corners of her lips. She seemed almost happy, realizing that she did not have to be afraid of his death, for he would be with her no matter what. Seeing her in that state lifted his heart, but when her face suddenly turned to depression his heart plummeted to his feet.

She turned away from him, her eyes glazed with tears. "It doesn't matter," she alleged tearfully. "I can't…you…we can't…"

"Why not?" he asked quickly; "why can't we?"

"It's against regulations…neither one of us wants to quit—"

Jack moved again, positioning himself so that she would look to him with him still being beside her. "Those are nothing more than excuses. I'm tired of excuses. I don't want to be pushed away from you anymore." Before he knew it, the words slipped from his tongue and into the moment.

"I'm in love with you, Sam."

Sam's shoulders froze at his words. "What?" Her body turned back to him, just to make sure of what she had heard. Her tone was almost of bewilderment, but not in a terrible way. It intrigued him, and deciding to test her again by repeating his previous confession.

"I said, '_I'm in love with you._'"

Her face changed as it lit up, as if her soul needed to hear him say those words. "You…you are?"

"Yes," he replied. "I wish I could say more than that, but simply saying 'I love you' doesn't cut it and sounds _so_ cliché…" He dared contact and placed his arm around her shoulders, and she willingly leaned into him, sighing.

"I love—I'm in love with you, too…Jack," she whispered, speaking his name. Goose bumps always raced under his skin whenever she said his name. It sounded so smooth flowing off her tongue despite the rough syllable at the end. "But—"

"Screw everyone and what they think, what'd they know about us? Absolutely nothing," he urged. "I _want_ you, Sam, now, not later when I'm some crabby old guy with a cane. Yeah, yeah, I know I'm already halfway there, but let's disregard that. After all, I am Ancient, in a way." He heard her chuckle slightly. "We can still be in the Air Force, we can still work together."

"How?" she inquired cautiously, after a pregnanted pause. Her attitude betrayed the anticipation and worry she felt.

"We could keep it our little secret," he proposed.

Sam lifted her head so she could look into Jack's dark brown eyes. He could still see the small dose of trepidation that held her at bay, see the anxiety that swirled with the joy that she could finally find happiness.

"We could be court martialled," she warned.

Jack shrugged, turning his body so they were facing one another. "True, but let me ask you something…"

He took her face in his hands and pressed his lips lightly to hers in a tender, longing kiss. She was startled, in shock at his action, which allowed him to take the moment and romanticize it to a time long ago where only he knew what happened. He swiftly wrapped his left arm over her shoulder and held it against her left shoulder, and he dipped her in his arms, his right hand adding support by being placed on the small of her back. As he dipped her she seemed to catch on and brought her right arm around him, pulling him close, and she rested her left hand on his shoulder. He deepened their soft contact and she allowed herself to succumb to her emotions as she lovingly kissed him back, wrapping her left arm around his neck.

The storm outside released its torments, the rain pouring in a curtain of water and the lightning and thunder beginning to dance, as passion poured from one soul into another freely and eagerly.

He pulled the two of them back up to standing positions, each one slowly untangling their arms from one another until it was time to separate their lips, and he paused for a moment. He could only stare before he raised his eyebrows and let a smirk find his lips before continuing his prior thought with a slight pant.

"Is it worth the risk?"

She was silent for a moment with furrowed brow, contemplating his request. The unbearable silence made him uncomfortable, and he nervously ran his fingers through his silver hair. With his eyes darting between hers and the floor, he almost missed the twinkling of her eyes. They sparkled in such a manner that answered for her long before she spoke her response. He watched her grin, and he found it easier to smirk at her small blush decorating her cheeks in the dark.

"Yes."

The onrush of youthful merriment overpowered Jack, along with a simultaneous flash of light and clap of sound, initiated another emotional expression. He snaked his arm around Sam's waist and pushed her body into his. She smiled gleefully as he steadied her with a hand on her shoulder and lowered his lips until they pressed lightly against hers once more. She mumbled against his mouth for perhaps a nanosecond before her own was working with his, her fingertips finding his jaw and setting themselves against his rough skin. It was small, innocent, a teaser of sorts, but as he pulled back she attacked his lips again, her will pulling him back to her with her hands falling to his neck. They ended it slowly, the way her warm body was aligned with his telling him she craved more, but he fought the impulse to capture her mouth again.

It appeared that after all these years of built-up tension and outlawed love that all thought of taking it slow had decided to sail into the distant horizon on some far-off planet in the deep, dark corner of the galaxy. But neither one seemed to mind in the slightest.

"You know," he said, clearing his throat in the pause, "I was thinking about going up to the cabin tomorrow, maybe stay a week. Want to come with?" His hope that she would take his invitation was clearly evident in his sudden uplifted voice. He watched as her eyes cast down for a moment, but she lock gazes with him again quickly.

She began with a serious tone. "I…I have some work left to finish, it's all been piling up with all the excitement and all that's happened recently, with the Replicators and Anubis and everything…" She paused, her mouth widening to a genuine smile as her fingertips rubbed his jaw, adding playfully, "But it can wait."

"That'll be perfect." Jack grinned smugly, tightening his hold on her with a mischievous growl, making her smile and giggle. He gave her lips another light touch from his own and sighed.

"What is it?" asked Sam worriedly. His eyes widened slightly when he suddenly realized his tone threw her off.

"Oh, it's nothing important. Just…if we're going to the cabin tomorrow, well, I'd better go so I can pack—"

"Or," suggested Sam lightly, tracing the collar of his shirt, "you _could_ stay…I mean, the storm doesn't look like its letting up soon, and I don't think you should be driving in the rain, especially since you had _all_ that alcohol…" She smiled with him at her joke.

_Oh, I've taught her so well_, his thoughts cooed.

He felt that he was on top of the world, perhaps the galaxy—no, the universe—because it was him who dried her eyes and made her sadness retreat, it was him who made all her demons go away. And now, after so many years of longing, he could have the fruit that was once forbidden without fault, for she was smiling the smile she reserved for him because she could also have what had once been considered illicit, and it was him. He gazed into her eyes to read the story they told, and saw the swirling of desire spinning madly inside the blue of her irises. Her body was pressed against his in a way that would have made any normal man groan in pleasure, but he was no ordinary man.

Call him a romantic, like his father claimed he would be, but after all the distance from the past years had been closed, he found no yearning to take her. In his fantasies they would tread back to the shadows and know each other, their bodies mingling into one fluid being, but now that the time had come he felt no pull to do so. He realized that he not only loved her, but he also respected her; that's what made him _in love_ with her. His only covet was to touch her soft, smooth skin and lie next to her warm body with his arm draped over her. Any random man could take her to magical places of ecstasy, but only he could make her feel like she was the only woman in the universe, literally and figuratively.

"Okay…I'll stay," said Jack. "I'll be on the couch if—"

Sam silenced his tease with a chaste kiss on his speaking lips, gentle and calm. "C'mere," she ordered softly, playing with his phrase, taking his hands in hers and leading him down the hall towards her bedroom.

As they approached the room he felt her grip tightened slightly, and he could sense the hesitancy that flowed inside her. She thought he wanted her body that night, to explore the secrets of her curves and be filled with the guilty gratification of the flesh, which was not what he intended. Before she could guide him through the door of her room he stopped and pulled her back to him, drawing her face close to his.

"What's wrong?" she inquired uncomfortably.

He laced his fingers with hers, replying in a humming whisper. "Listen…I don't want you to think that all I want is…_physical_." He paused, licking his lips and exhaling through his nostrils, and added in a husky murmur, "I don't _need_ it. I need _you_."

She cocked her head at him, her eyes swelling in confusion. To ease her tension, he took the lead and directed her to the bedroom, pulling her to the bed after him. He sat down in the middle of the edge and situated her on his left, between his body and the headboard. His hands released hers and found her face, cupping it so his thumbs were under her jaw line, and he brought his lips unto hers sweetly, just taking a caressing taste. Once their kiss ended he rested his forehead against hers, both of them closing their eyes at his intimacy with her.

"Jack…" she began quietly.

"I know, Sam." He knew she loved him, and therefore she had no need to say it.

They opened their eyes simultaneously, gazing into each other in the dark. Jack slipped his hands from her face while his feet kicked off his shoes with such finesse it surprised himself. He pushed himself fully on the bed and took Sam in his arms, wrapping them around her waist. He pulled her with him as he leaned back to lay on the mattress, he spooning behind her. He felt her relax in his hold again, she shifting so her hands were lying atop his, which were positioned on her stomach. Overcome with a completeness he had never had, he smiled, knowing that he had finally discovered the true meaning of love.

The strife that had once resided between them had finally been settled, morphing to a blending of passion that fueled the havoc that was embodied in the storm raging outside. The lightning flirted with the thunder as they danced within the music of the rain, providing a soothing calm that crept over the two entwining souls inside the small house on Grey Street. They breathed together and let their eyelids fall, embellishing in a sleep that was only theirs to keep, and smiled.

They were the happiest people in the entire universe, in any and all comparisons. The were an absolute truth, that love conquers all, and no one, no man, Goa'uld, Aschen, Replicator, or Half-Ascended Being could take it away from them.


End file.
